


Weight

by heartstrickledown



Category: Watchmen
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstrickledown/pseuds/heartstrickledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan/Rorschach. Dan and Rorschach take a vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weight

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
---  
  
  
Rorschach packs light.

He brings:  
one pair of underwear  
one pair of pants  
two shirts; one orange, one gray  
three pairs of socks  
a bottle of Dan's cologne  
and one blank journal.

Everything else he either carries or leaves behind.

*

Dan tells himself that this is for the best. It's obvious they both need a break. From crime fighting, at least, if not from their identities. Rorschach may not make the latter possible; he climbs into the backseat wearing his mask and keeps it on even when carsickness kicks in and he has to shove it up to vomit in a plastic bag. Back down the fabric goes each time, three times in two hours.

"How much longer," Rorschach rasps two and a half hours in. He's curled in on himself in the backseat, looking truly miserable.

Dan decides this must have been a terrible idea from the beginning. "Maybe another hour," he says. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

"Hnn," Rorschach articulates. His fingers dig into his stomach and Dan prays he didn't just lie.

*

The house is just like Dan remembers it, though a little dustier inside, and smaller. Rorschach slips through the house as quietly as he can, as if he recognizes what ghosts lurk in the dusty corners. He leaves his bag in the living room, by the couch. His fingers leave clean, dark trails everywhere he goes.

The mask stays on.

*

Dan moves Rorschach's bag when he's out at the lake - well, pond, really. He sets it in Dan's old room, next to the bed, close to his own bag. He tries not to think of the implications.

*

They eat franks and chips by the pond, watching water striders walk across, chasing tiny ripples. Rorschach's reflection shifts in the water; no matter how comfortable they are, it stays. Dan doesn't press him. Not about this. The striders break the surface of the lake, cut Rorschach's mask into smooth circles.

In '64, Dan never bothered to wonder when the mask would come off. Here, in '71, it is a bargain without any pay save glimpses of red hair through the corner of his eyes, the sharp shadow of an exposed cheekbone. Freckles on his shoulders.

*

To be fair, Dan didn't bring much more than Rorschach. A small bottle of lube, a few more pants and shirts, a book about mythology, his goggles, binoculars, a toothbrush and toothpaste, soap. He almost didn't bring the lube, because he has no idea how Rorschach will take intimacy outside of violence, and the trip's not about that, anyway. It's about letting go of a string of bad cases, recentering themselves with a few days of peace. Anything else is inconsequential.

*

When dusk settles in, cool and timid, Dan slings his binoculars around his neck and leads Rorschach into the surrounding woods. At first he's not sure that he'll remember the old trails, but under shadow of the trees a dim part of him cracks open, almost like donning Nite Owl's cowl. He trusts his feet, and Rorschach, behind, trusts in the whisper of his body as they stalk through the bracken and undergrowth.

There's a thin patch of meadow by a ditch, and it's there Dan sinks to his knees - for a heartbeat he looks up at Rorschach and imagines unzipping his pinstripes, taking him in his mouth. It passes. He settles onto the soft ground and waits.

Rorschach lays close enough for their arms to touch and rolls up his mask - to the nose, for now.

Somewhere in the tall grass, creatures skitter. Soon the owls will hunt.

*

But it's not until the moon's overhead that Rorschach recedes into whoever he is without the mask. Daniel's relieved in a small way that he didn't bring his goggles and so has no need to resist the urge to see him clearly; the moonlight slicing across his sharp face and wiry hair is enough.

"Daniel," he whispers when a screech dies in the air.

Dan has nothing to whisper back. Instead, he presses the binoculars into his hands and shuts his eyes.

*

_You know who is important_ \- that's what Rorschach told him years ago, what Dan refuses to believe. He remembers that, as he nudges his open mouth against the man's neck. Dan can feel him shiver.

*

The mask doesn't shift as it sits on the ground, just a few inches away.

Dan's binoculars are cold where their chests meet.

*

His Adam's apple bobs, swallowing back his pleasure; his bared teeth glow. He comes over his stomach, chokes out soft noises, and he lets Dan cup a hand against the back of his neck. They lay together until their sweat is dried, skin chilled by each breeze.

Rorschach takes his mask in one hand, but he only holds it for a while, fingers closing and opening like a tired butterfly's wings.

*

The next day Rorschach's mask is over his chin again.

But that night, he sits on the edge of Dan's bed, bag between his feet, and tilts his head back when Dan's hands seek the bottom of his mask.


End file.
